Writing
by TheSpiritOfSnow
Summary: -"You always loved books, Xi, so they finally let me bring one in. It's only a picture book, though. But it talks about writing. You loved writing."-


"Hello, Xion!"

She looked up at the name that he called her as the heavy doors closed behind him. He had been visiting her for so long that she couldn't even remember a time when he wasn't there. The rest was a nonsensical blur, but then again, how could it be nonsensical if it made up everything she remembered?

Memory… what was memory again?

_"Little dots at the back of my mind that prick and poke but make no sense_," she whispered to herself.

There it was again. That look of worry and pain and sorrow that flashed across the nameless boy's face at least once every time he came here. But, like usual, it was wiped away just as quickly as it had come, as if he was trying to hide his true emotions from her. But why would he do that? He called her confusing sometimes, but in truth, he was the confusing one.

He smiled at her and sat on the chair in front of her. Where did that chair come from again? There was only supposed to be one chair, and it was the chair she was sitting on. The wooden chair- or was it metal? What was metal again?

_"Traps. Cold, hard walls that close onto someone's heart, but also unyielding supports that hold up those who are in need,"_ she murmured.

He looked at her strangely, and she hated that look. But then she felt like smiling when he did even though he seemed more weary than anything else, but she didn't remember how to.

"I brought a book today," he said, and her eyes didn't bother to trail down to his hands because she believed him right away. Why would he lie to her, after all? Wait- what was a lie again?

_"A web that tangles and snags, pushing and pulling strangled limbs together. A suppressed thought that whispers in the back of your mind, a memory that slowly builds upon itself into a bloodcurling scream, yelling, thrashing, tireless until it bursts from your mouth-"_

"Why do you seem so angry?" the boy asked her, and he seemed to be very saddened by her words. But it wasn't a question that she could answer, so she didn't speak.

She watched the boy as he opened his book, stared as the pretty colors floated from the pages and into her blue eyes. She cocked her head curiously, and the boy smiled widely at her reaction.

"You always loved books, Xi, so they finally let me bring one in. It's only a picture book, though. But it talks about writing. You loved writing."

Writing… it sounded so familiar. So warm. Not the warmest possible thing, but she knew that it was like a nice, warm touch of the sun during a cloudy evening… even if that wasn't necessarily possible.

"It's about a dog- no, a puppy, and an older rabbit. The puppy's curious about everything, and the rabbit just wants the puppy to leave him alone. So the rabbit promises to answer three of the puppy's questions, so that she'll leave him alone afterwards."

Xion- because that may as well be her name- leaned forward and inclined her head. She showed interest, and this seemed to please the blond boy in front of her greatly.

He grinned, giving her a lingering look before his eyes returned to the paper he held so gently.

"The puppy's really excited about it, so she asks her first question without a second thought. She asks the rabbit, 'What is writing?' The rabbit-"

Her eyes widened even though she was staring at the cold, hard floor, for it was a question she could answer. It was the first question that he had spoken that she could answer.

And so, she answerd it.

"_Weaving together a network of words strung together by the small, singular letters-"_

The blond boy looked up in surprise as she muttered the words under her breath. They were just loud enough for him to hear, but she didn't realize it. She was simply answering the question.

"_-which are actually sparks of life that breathe being and emotion to the things that we speak,"_ whispered the girl, who curled upon herself on her chair and clenched her hands together.

The boy was staring straight at the girl. She looked away quietly, not wanting to meet his gaze… away at the cold, hard, gray steel walls…

"That actually… made sense," he said, more to himself than anything else.

Xion peered up at the boy. He said that he could understand her last sentence. Why couldn't he tell anything else that she was saying? It was so obvious. She just answered all the questions that appeared to her, whether she thought of them herself or if someone else spoke them.

It was always the former- at least, until now.

"…the rabbit answered her, but, uh… his answer isn't really important right now. Next, the puppy hastily asked, 'What is a heart?'"

_"An organ in the chest of an animal that pumps the blood throughout the body, allowing the transportation of materials like sugar and air to other organs through cells,"_ Xion answered robotically, searching the boy's eyes.

But he just stared back at her, and she knew that her answer wasn't enough. And so she searched through the files of her empty mind for another meaning of the word 'heart'.

_"Life,"_ she said. _"A symbol of life and love and emotion, of mourning and happiness and regret and yearning. Something long considered to be the source of emotion because feelings thrum around around a person's chest- _like they are to me right now."

She wasn't sure where the last words had come from, but that was okay because they were all true.

The boy's eyes were shiny, but she couldn't remember why they would be. There had to be a plausible reason for the single drop of liquid that was trailing down his cheek.

"'You only have one more question,' the grumpy rabbit warned the naïve puppy, 'so use it wisely. Think about something you really want to know.' And so the puppy thought it over to herself before she turned her small head up at the rabbit and smiled. 'What is love?'"

"_Love is…"_ Xion hesitated for the first time in her memory. Hesitation. Was that what love was? Something new? And yet, something old… just something inexperienced?

Her eyes trailed upwards as she thought. What a hard question. She already knew, like a heart, love didn't have a single definition. But love was interpretable, and everyone thought of it differently. How was she supposed to answer this question?

But it was answerable. It was simple enough. There had to be a definition.

And yet… did it have to be a fact? Was that what love was? But then again, it wasn't like love was fiction. She had seen it, actually seen it happening, many times… somewhere… if only she could remember! Then she would know what love was.

She shut her eyes tightly, shaking slightly in her spot as she concentrated. That brightness… was that her memories? The crevices of her mind seemed to dip deeper than ever as she reached down to grasp the thoughts that lay within.

"Xion?"

Her focus was broken, and she almost glared up at the face that stared down at her. But it was merely the boy, watching her carefully with his brow creased up in concern.

She felt his hands press slightly against her covered shoulders. She knew that he had touched her before, but he had never touched her skin, as if she could somehow burn him.

"It's okay… I don't want to you to hurt yourself trying to remember. Are you… no. Xion, what's being okay like?"

She moved the question of love aside momentarily to answer him.

_"When you're feeling fine. In good condition, but not particularly when you're _sitting next to a friend,_ because it is not warmth. Warmth is being _happy_…"_

She trailed off, unsatisfied with her less detailed answer, and stared at the hands folded in her lap.

"You're doing good," he told her encouragingly, and she could feel him smile as he scooted his chair forward so that they were closer. She didn't flinch or remove her burning gaze from her lap, even when she felt their knees touching.

"What's happiness, Xion?" he breathed, leaning toward her.

_"A glow, a gentle sun of laughter that roils in the chest and settles in the stomach. A pricking warmth that sits down and stays there for as long as it is needed. A whispered chuckle or a screaming laugh, a bubble that rises from the heart, and something that one cannot live without."_

"That's all true… that all makes sense." He looked at her with his shining eyes, and she knew that they were sparkling for a reason that was not related to wetness in any way.

"You're not insane," he says to himself, his voice full of something she knew was called hope. "You have to remember _something_."

"Go on, Xion," he told her, and the name now rung in her head like a warm, warm reminder. "You know what happiness is. It's not that far off from love. So, what is love?"

_"Love is…"_

She hesitated once more before she spoke.

"Love is many things. _It comes in numerous forms_."

He nodded and smiled.

_"It's the quiet of the snow, the pitter-patter of the clear rain that only comes when the clouds weep in happiness. It's the sound of all music and the words of all stories. _It's completion."

She looked at him intently before she went on, and this time, she didn't stop.

"_It's the moon, with empty cavities that eat away at those who look upon it, yet forever radiates a gentle glow over those that praise it._ It's pain. But it's also _the light, wonderful kind of pain that lies in wait in your body until that one person comes and the bats and birds and butterflies kick around inside you until they're satisfied. _It's nervousness.

"_It's the vibration of a violin and the song of the heart, the echoing plea of a lonely mountain that cries out in need for a partner, the whisper of the wind that makes it come alive in the ears of all that breathes._ It's beauty.

"_It's the want, the scraps of time where two lone hands reach out to the sky and clench their fingers at the blanket of night, as if they can catch a star for themselves. It's the moments where the owners of those hands thinks of a time much happier, a time when they were closer to the person they miss and when the sun shined down on them with its blessed rays._ It's yearning.

"_It's the time where you're a child sitting on the beach and your world is engulfed in darkness. The time where your friends and family are gone, sucked away, dead and lingering only in the recesses in your mind… and then you find more like them, and learn that somehow, in some way, you can get them back._ It's hope.

"_It's when your chest burns and the fists of your heart are clenched and ready to hurt, because you know that no matter what, you need to stop the hurt of those around you. It's the rage of fire, but it's also what keeps it burning and alive when the waters of time and experience drench it time and time again._ It's passion.

"_It's the moment where you realize you are the hero and the burden is yours, but it's okay, because you wield the literal key to saving the worlds build around you. The wonderfully ridiculous and ridiculously wonderful moment when you know what you're supposed to do and you know who and what you're meant for. _It's peace.

_"It's light and dark, a simplistic and complicated breathing being that roils and rests, an oxymoron that beats a steady rhythm into the ones that recognize it._ It's life. It's everything. No one can live without it. It's… it's…"

She stopped as the boy leaned forward, his chair scraping the ground as he dragged himself to her and wrapped his arms around her body. She leaned into him subconsciously, dipped and drowned in her befuddlement at this strange action.

And then, when their cheeks touched, she understood.

It was so clear. The walls around her were not cold and hard and steel anymore. They were smooth and understanding and shined a beautiful silver color. The floor beneath her was not scuffed by her black boots, but instead it bravely kept record of every footstep laid upon it. The chair she sat on was not uncomfortable, but instead a support, something that allowed her to sit without fear of falling.

It was nice, but then she saw the lights. Two big, blaring lights that screeched an angry cry as she twisted the wheel in front of her and tried for escape. But the clouds were weeping hard that night, and the moon was hidden behind their sorrow, and she did not see the monster that would eat her memory until it was too late.

The crash was terrible, and she remembered the pain.

But she didn't wince, for she had no time to. They came again in clips, in pictures, in shots of time captive within her mind. Usually she saw the beautiful blond boy and the redhead pyro, the fire and the lights, the clock tower and the old tree that she fell off once and the broken bonds and the linked hearts and the salty but sweet blue bars of ice cream-

The memories came in chains, and she travelled link by link, backwards on this long, strong thread. And as she walked and ran across her memories without tripping, she laughed and she sang and she couldn't believe that she could have let herself forget things as wonderful and terrible as her memories. Something as wonderful as love.

She smiled, because she remembered.

"Roxas…"


End file.
